"I am tired after the walk, and I must be up early to-morrow to see Jörgen off."
Jörgen felt that this sudden departure was a piece of deliberate mischief. She wished to escape saying good-night to him in the passage. He vowed to revenge himself. He was skilled in the art.
Mrs. Dawes asked if there were any misunderstanding between them. He said there was none. She did not believe it; he had to assure her again solemnly that he knew of none. But he could not conceal that he was out of temper; he could not even bear to sit there any longer. When he left he found the passage, contrary to custom, dark, and had to grope his way to his own door. Not till he had lit his lamp and listened involuntarily for any sound from Mary's room, did it occur to him that the door-handle had been made noiseless. In the morning it had creaked—very little; but it certainly had creaked. Never had he been in such a well-ordered house as this, where the very slightest thing amiss was instantly put right—even on a Sunday. He could not imagine greater happiness than to return here when everything should be satisfactorily arranged, to rest, and to live as long as he chose in the manner which his ardent desire for the pleasures of the senses pictured.
Therefore patience! He would submit to Mary's caprices now, as he had submitted to his uncle's before—until his time came!
He was undressing, when the door opened noiselessly, and Mary entered, in her night-dress—dazzlingly beautiful. She closed the door behind her and went forward to the lamp. "You shall not wait, Jörgen," said she, as she extinguished the light.
ALONE
Next morning she slept too long. She was awakened by singing and playing. First as in a dream and then consciously, through a rushing stream of memories, she heard Jörgen Thiis. He was at the piano, singing in the freshness of the early morning, the windows flung open, his clear, jubilant tenor wafting festal tones up to her.
In a moment she was up and dressing, afraid lest she might be too late to go down with him to the steamer. The wider awake she became with the rapid motion, the more impetuously did her thoughts rush towards him and his joyful agitation. That heartfelt, soul and sense pervading gratitude and praise—she would fain enjoy it in his immediate neighbourhood. She longed to be uplifted and borne in triumph as his life's queen! Of her sovereign grace she had bestowed on him life's highest prize. He was rewarded now for his long sufferings!—without bargaining, without regard for established prejudices. She knew him now; she knew exactly how he would look, exactly in what manner he would make her the partaker of his happiness. Therefore her breast heaved high in expectation of the meeting—expectation of his gratitude and homage.
In her blue morning dress she passed through the little Dutch ante-room and stretched out her hand to open the door of the big drawing-room with the windows to the sea; but so excited was she that she had to pause to take breath—enjoying Jörgen's triumph the while. He was so carried away with his own music that she was quite close to him before he noticed her. He looked up, radiant—rose slowly, silently, as to a festal rite. This impression he would do nothing to destroy. He opened his arms, drew her into his embrace, kissed her hair gently, stroked the cheek that lay bare—slowly, protectingly. He was trying to shield, to hide, to help her with manly tenderness to overcome the feeling of shame from which she must be suffering. His whole attitude was tender and reassuring.